The Best Revenge
by Space Viking
Summary: As an Ensign fresh out of Starfleet Academy, Carlin seeks to prove herself worthy of the father who abandoned her and to humiliate him. But when a rescue mission goes horribly wrong, she is must face one of the most dangerous aliens in Starfleet history and decide whether or not her quest for revenge is worth it. Set in 2405, introducing Carlin, Antori Drel, and the Nautilus crew.
1. Graduation Day

Disclaimer: Star Trek and all associated characters and situations are the property of CBS studios. Star Trek Online is the creation of Cryptic and Perfect World. All are here used by myself for entertainment purposes only, without permission or intent to profit.

Author's Note: Admiral Jorel Quinn is the NPC quest giver for the early stages of Star Trek Online. In this chapter and the next I altered his character and made up a background to suit the story. No offence to the original character (who is quite nice) is intended.

Edit: Stardates have been recalculated with the help of the TNG Stardate Calculator available on TrekGuide .com in order to provide more consistent Stardates across multiple stories. This does, however, make the Stardates here slightly out of sync with those used in the game's lore.

* * *

**Graduation Day**

_Cadet Carlin Agran's Personal Log, Stardate 79740.2:_

_Today is the big day! Today I graduate with the Starfleet Academy Class of 2405—specifically in the top 10% of the class. Everyone will see it. Mother can't be here in person (the fare for a transport from the Beta Rigel colony is too expensive), but she'll watch the holos later. Most importantly, _he_ will be there. He will see me cross the stage…and when he does, he'll realize he never should have abandoned me: his child._

For the Starfleet Cadets gathered in the auditorium that day, it was the proudest moment of their lives. It was also one many of them couldn't wait to be done with. Carlin Agran, for one, was ready to swear to never again listen to the old Earth tune "Pomp and Circumstance." For some reason, every graduation on Earth since time immemorial had to play the song non-stop throughout the entire ceremony, and by now it had been going on so long she had every single note of it committed to memory—which was saying something, since Carlin had always been tone-deaf. She pushed back strands of her auburn hair, revealing the distinctive Trill rows of brown spots running down from her forehead and along either side of her head and neck before disappearing beneath the collar of her uniform. She massaged the spots at her temple, trying to ward off the headache she could feel coming on. _If this ceremony goes on much longer…_

She cut off the thought, and made herself pay attention to what the Tellarite master of ceremonies was saying. "Cadet John Andersen, graduating with a degree in Warp Theory," the stocky man said, with a voice as dry as his bristly beard. A human cadet in engineering yellows stood, crossed the stage, pausing to shake hands with everyone, and descended again with his diploma in hand, mercifully doing so without comment or any hesitation that would have only slowed things down.

Carlin tried not to yawn. She made herself sit straight. They were graduating in reverse alphabetical order this year (for whatever crazy reason) and that meant her name would be coming up soon. This was a critical moment for her, one of _the_ moments she'd been waiting for her whole life, ever since she heard of _him_.

She let her gaze drift over to the place where he stood on the stage, careful to keep her face neutral. She couldn't help a little smirk, though. If she was not mistaken, he was beginning to go bald, leaving a small gap between his Trill spots and the salt-and-pepper mass of his slicked-back hair. It amused her to think that the years had been no kinder to him here than they had been to her mother, Lendri back on the Beta Rigel colony.

His name was Jorel Quinn and he was a Rear Admiral in Starfleet, one of the top brass in charge of Starfleet Science, though with a war looming between the Federation and the Klingon Empire, his position was beginning to change. To many, Admiral Quinn was a kind authority, a fatherly man—but those were people who didn't actually have him as their biological father, Carlin reflected bitterly.

Her mother had told her some time ago about the young Trill, Jorel Onx, who had been her father, how he had left Lendri the moment he'd found they'd conceived a daughter together. It hadn't been until Carlin was a little older that she'd understood why the pregnancy had gotten Lendri in trouble, why Jorel had denied his involvement and even faked a DNA test to prove his innocence—the Trill Symbiosis Commission frowned on excessive fraternization among its applicants: and conceiving a child together was certainly out of bounds. If Jorel had confessed himself as the father, he would have been dismissed from the program in disgrace and never allowed a chance to join with a symbiont again, just like Lendri had been.

But understanding the reasons for his cowardice and rejection didn't make Carlin any more inclined to forgive him for them. It had taken her some time to piece together the records through the computer files available on Beta Rigel and find out that the Jorel Onx her mother knew had been joined to the Quinn symbiont, becoming its sixteenth host: Jorel Quinn. Quinn was one of the six oldest symbionts still capable of joining, and that had given Jorel Quinn plenty of influence from the start. It hadn't taken him long to go on to a brilliant career in Starfleet, shooting up to flag rank like a rocket. But like the rocket, he'd blasted Lendri and her daughter into the ground in order to get where he was—and Carlin wasn't about to forgive him for that…or let him forget.

And that was what made this day so important. When Jorel had walked away from the child he'd fathered, he'd declared her unworthy of his attention, unworthy of a father's love, less valuable than the status and fame a joining could give him. Carlin was about to prove him wrong.

"Cadet Carlin Agran," the Tellarite intoned. "Graduating with advanced degrees in Xenobiology and Astrophysics."

The voice was as dry as ever, but to Carlin the words were like a trumpet call. She smiled and stood smoothly, walking to the stage. She kept herself from looking directly at Rear Admiral Quinn, but her mind could not help but keep track of where he sat and her smile broadened at the thought of him sitting there, watching her. _What do you think _now_, "Daddy?"_ her thoughts burned at him. _Look how your little daughter has grown up and made so much of herself—oh, but you can't let anyone know that she's your daughter, can you now? Can you even admit it to yourself—admit that you made a mistake when you deserted her and her mother to pursue your own stupid path to glory?_ There was a dangerous glint in her eyes. She _knew_ that Jorel had to be aware she was his daughter. She had made sure to "accidently misdirect" her admission files to his office when she'd been accepted to Starfleet Academy. Though it was her own interest that had pushed her to pursue astrophysics, her study of xenobiology was a direct jab at him, as was her recent application to the Trill Symbiosis Program. He had graduated with a degree in Xenobiology from this very Academy twenty years before, and Carlin had made certain to beat his every test and assignment score in pursuit of that degree (though it had meant repeating Molecular Biology of Humanoids twice). _Yes, I'm your daughter_, her record screamed at him, _and, yes, I'm better than you are at everything. Still think I'm not worth your time, hmm?_

She stepped across the stage, savoring the moment. She accepted the antique paper diploma carefully in one hand and then took the time to shake hands with each of the admirals and ceremonial officers, even the ones she didn't technically need to. She took her time getting to Rear Admiral Quinn's hand. _Let him know what it feels like to be the abandoned one for a minute_, she told herself. Finally, she grasped his hand, intentionally making the handshake too firm and pricking his palm with her fingernails.

But to her surprise, he didn't flinch. Jorel Quinn actually squeezed her hand back, covering it with both of his and shaking enthusiastically. He smiled broadly and his eyes showed nothing but genuine pride. "Congratulations, Cadet, or should I say, Ensign?" he said. "If you're not too busy, I'd like to see you in my office after the ceremony."

"Uh…of course, sir," she said, dumbfounded. She could not detect even a trace of the resentment he must be feeling in his voice or expression, and she was too startled herself to put an edge of sarcasm into her voice. All she could manage was to free her hand as gracefully as possible, paste on a smile for the holo-camera, and walk off stage without tripping over her own two feet.

Behind her, unnoticed, the Tellarite droned on. "Cadet Hatxir Adrej, graduating with a degree in Temporal Mechanics."


	2. The Rear Admiral

Disclaimer: Star Trek and all associated characters and situations are the property of CBS studios. Star Trek Online is the creation of Cryptic and Perfect World. All are here used by myself for entertainment purposes only, without permission or intent to profit.

Author's Note: Admiral Jorel Quinn is the NPC quest giver for the early stages of Star Trek Online. In this chapter and the previous one I altered his character and made up a background to suit the story. No offence to the original character (who is quite nice) is intended.

**The Rear**** Admiral's**** Office**

_Cadet Carlin Agran's Personal Log, Supplemental:  
Things didn't exactly go as I'd planned. I graduated, of course, crossed the stage to shake Jorel Quinn's hand and rub it in his face—that I, the daughter he hadn't even seen fit to acknowledge, had not only graduated from Starfleet Academy, but had actually done better than he had in his own Academy days. But his reaction was totally unexpected. He actually seemed…pleased. He invited me to join him in his office later, right there in front of everyone. I have no idea what's going on or what he really wants, but an invitation from a Rear Admiral simply cannot be ignored…_

A few hours later, Carlin found herself standing outside the office of Rear Admiral Jorel Quinn at the Starfleet Command building in San Francisco. She hesitated, wondering again what she was doing here, but again the answer was obvious. She was an Ensign now, and junior officers simply didn't ignore an invitation made by a flag officer, especially invitations that had been made publicly in the presence of other flag officers and dignitaries. The invitation might have sounded voluntary, but coming from someone that far up the chain of command, it couldn't truly be—and any attempt to refuse at this point was liable to have some rather unfortunate effects on her career later on. That was certainly something she didn't want. She had no intention of handing Jorel an easy way to punish her for avenging his past sins.

She took a deep breath, and entered. Jorel was standing by the window, looking out over the bay, and he turned as she entered. He smiled and waved for her to come join him at the window. Carlin did so hesitantly, making sure to keep at least a foot between herself and him. Nevertheless, he managed to put an arm around her shoulder as he pointed his other hand out at the window.

"Beautiful isn't it?" he said, smiling. "Reminds me of Aldar Bay back on Trill."

"If you say so, sir," she answered stiffly, still trying to figure out where this was headed.

Jorel frowned at turned to look at her, removing his hand. "Why so stiff and formal, Carlin?" he asked. "I'm not going to hold to formalities here, not on a special day like today."

Carlin took a step back. "It's hardly proper for a Rear Admiral to address an Ensign he doesn't know by her first name," she said.

Jorel laughed. "Is that what we're playing at, then? _An Ensign I don't know_?" He shook his head. "Come on, Carlin, we both know that you and I hardly have the simple relationship between our ranks. We're flesh and blood! I'm your father, remember?"

Carlin wasn't aware of actually making the decision to strike him. The next thing she knew, though, he was bent over, clutching a cheek where a bright-red impression of her hand was beginning to form and gasping for breath from an elbow to the gut. Carlin herself fell into a self-defense stance from basic training.

"My father is dead!" The words came out through gritted teeth and she could feel a tear trying to inch its way down her cheek. She wiped it away quickly.

Meanwhile, Jorel recovered himself, still rubbing his face. "Quite a combo you have there," he said. He grunted as he straightened, but he still managed to smile. "I suppose that's what your mother told you though. I can't blame her, really. It's probably not a story she'd want you to know." He shook himself. "No, _I_ am your father, and very much alive so long as you don't demonstrate your combat skills on me again."

Carlin remembered suddenly that striking a superior officer was still one of the highest offenses in Starfleet. She stepped back and lowered her hands to her side. "My apologies, sir…I…I don't know what came over me," she said. It was mostly true.

Jorel shook his head. "No, don't worry about it at all," he said. "I won't be pressing charges, if that's what you're afraid of. I suppose I had it coming anyway, springing this news on you, though I thought you already knew when I your admittance files somehow got redirected to my office." He looked at her questioningly.

Carlin cleared her throat. She couldn't let him go on with that misconception. This was her chance, to rescue her plan. "As a matter of fact, I did…intentionally misdirect those files," she said.

"And may I ask to what purpose?" Jorel said, lowering his hand.

Carlin looked up and met his eyes, her gaze hard and unflinching. "Because I know about you and my mother."

Jorel cleared his throat. "I suppose she did tell you, then," he said.

She nodded.

"So you know why it was imperative that no one know about our relationship?"

"I know why you think it was," she said.

"Good," he said, making his way around the desk. "Now that the unpleasant bit is out of the way-"

"But I don't agree," she interrupted.

Jorel stopped halfway to his chair. "What's that?"

"I said, I don't agree with your reasons," she said, her voice cold. "You were wrong to lie, and wrong to abandon us."

Jarel Quinn cleared his throat and sat down. "Well, young lady, I certainly can't expect you do understand completely, but surely you realize by now the kind of sacrifices we must make in life. You're an applicant to the Symbiosis Program yourself now. I've been an applicant sixteen times in various hosts. I know the ins and outs, the pressures. You can't have everything in life, and joining is no exception. Some things have to be set by the wayside as you decide what truly matters."

"So that's it, huh? Me and my mom, we don't _truly matter_ do we?" Carlin retorted icily.

Quinn shook his head. "That wasn't what I meant." Then he waved his hand as if to dismiss the subject. "In any case, the past is the past. Your mother has found a home for herself and you, well, you're here in the wake of your first major victory in life: graduation with honors from Starfleet Academy. You're also practically on the eve of your second victory: acceptance by the Trill Symbiosis Commission and joining with a symbiont." He folded his hands across the top of his desk. "You know, I could help you along with that. In sixteen lifetimes, I've accumulated quite the influence in the Symbiosis Commission. I also have a good eye for all the best initiate-field docent matches, and I could steer you away from the bad eggs, the ones who are as likely to recommend your rejection as look at you—like Dax for instance. Did you have anyone in mind?"

Carlin glared at him. _So he thinks that just because me and Mom turned out alright he's off the hook for abandoning us like so much dead weight?_ She decided to take the next step in her plotted revenge. "Actually, I do," she told him. "I've decided to request Drel as my field docent."

Jorel Quinn laughed. "You must be joking, right? Surely you are." She said nothing. He sat back and sighed. "I guess you don't know, then. I keep forgetting how limited the resources of an unjoined Trill are. Well, for your information, Drel is probably the youngest symbiont in Starfleet right now. This is only his second host. He's hardly qualified as a field docent."

"I was under the impression that the qualifications of field docents were for the Symbiosis Commission to decide," Carlin said.

Quinn looked down. "True, but-"

"I was also under the impression that you weren't currently _on_ the Symbiosis Commission."

"Also true," Quinn grumbled. He looked up at her and sighed. "If you must know, Carlin, there's…well, there's something of disagreement between Drel and me, always has been, especially since he ran off to join Starfleet in his first host. Drel is impetuous, impulsive, and too young for all the responsibilities and experiences he's trying to take on." He looked down. "I suppose that's just an old man's personal opinion, but there you go. I don't like Drel, and I can't recommend him."

Carlin allowed herself to smile for the first time since entering the office. She had done her research well, at least as far as the relationships between Quinn and the other joined symbionts was concerned. "I know you don't like Drel," she said. "Why do you think I chose him?" With that, she turned and walked from his office, leaving him in stunned silence.


	3. Duel

Disclaimer: Star Trek and all associated characters and situations are the property of CBS studios. Star Trek Online is the creation of Cryptic and Perfect World. All are here used by myself for entertainment purposes only, without permission or intent to profit. This chapter also contains a "shout-out" to Mass Effect, which is the property of BioWare.

Edit: Stardates have been recalculated with the help of the TNG Stardate Calculator available on TrekGuide .com in order to provide more consistent Stardates across multiple stories. This does, however, make the Stardates here slightly out of sync with those used in the game's lore.

* * *

**Duel**

USS Nautilus_, First Officer Antori Drel's Log, Stardate 79770.6:_

_Though we're nowhere near the Klingon-Federation border, I can't help but be aware of the rising political tensions with the Klingon Empire. The Klingons have vastly increased the size of their military and territory. They've allied themselves with the Orion Syndicate, bought up nearly every Nausicaan and Lethean mercenary in the quadrant, and just last year they conquered the Gorn Hegemony—incorporating its military into their own. I'm afraid if relations between the Federation and the Klingon Empire continue to deteriorate, there may be war, of the sort we haven't seen since the defeat of the Dominion thirty years ago. So, while _Nautilus_ is en route to rendezvous with the _USS Vermire_ for light resupply and routine personnel transfers, I figure it's the perfect time for me to head down to the holodeck and practice for a worst-case scenario._

Commander Antori Drel wiped sweat and sand from his forehead with the red sleeve of his uniform while backing away from his opponent. He shifted his grip on his weapon, a captured Klingon _bat'leth_. He knew the Klingons had defeated the Gorn and landed ground troops on the Gorn homeworld a little over a year ago—and that meant they'd surely faced some of them as he did now, armed only with the traditional sword of the Klingon Empire…and lived to tell about it. Antori wished he knew how, though. Thus far, the cuts he'd gotten in with his _bat'leth_ didn't seem to bother the Gorn at all. Most of them were shallow, deflected by its thick rubbery hide. And while his weapon seemed ineffective against the huge reptilian brute, the Gorn's weapon was much more intimidating: a mace that was a full two meters long and ended in a massive barbed head made of solid metal.

The Gorn was following Drel's movements, lumbering after him with the deliberate steps of a creature adapted to high-gravity worlds, where everyday tasks took tremendous strength and one misstep could easily be fatal. In this standard gravity environment, the Gorn had strength to spare and was using that to its advantage. It was also more at home in the heat here at the bottom of this rock-walled pit, especially with the noonday sun shining straight down on them as it was now. Drel's only advantage was agility, and the Gorn was trying to pin him against the wall where agility wouldn't matter anymore. Drel saw the move coming and circled to the left. The Gorn followed him, but its lumbering stride meant that it couldn't keep up. As long as Drel kept moving and changing direction he could keep out of the Gorn's reach. Thus, the initiative was his…at least until the heat and constant movement exhausted him and gave the Gorn a chance to pound him into hamburger, that is.

Antori shook his head to banish the thought. The key thing was to figure out how to use the initiative his speed gave him. He had already tried several hit-and-run attacks with the _bat'leth_, but the cuts to the creature's chest didn't seem to be bothering it. He could not risk running in there again on another blind attack, not when the Gorn's counter could easily kill him. He had to do this smart.

_Look at what your enemy protects_, Drel told himself. _That's where you'll find his weakness_. It was something Drel's first host, Perciv had learned from his teacher on starship design analysis. There, it had meant examining armor and shielding configurations of alien vessels to determine what pieces of technology their designers had thought were particularly vulnerable. Antori had found the saying applied even better to hand-to-hand combat.

He examined the Gorn's stance, but that was no help. The Gorn's stride, though slow, was defiant and proud. It clearly believed itself to be invincible, and Drel could hardly blame it at the moment. He took a look at its armor instead and noticed a peculiarity. Most species focused their armor on protecting parts of their torso where their most vital organs were located, which for humanoids was almost invariably the chest. But the Gorn had left its chest entirely bare except for a thick leather strap from which to hang its enormous mace when it was not in use. By contrast, its groin and knees were well-protected by a pair of thick leather pants with steel disks sewn onto them. The implication was clear: the Gorn didn't care about wounds to the chest (whether because his hide was thicker there or for some other reason), but it was trying to protect its legs. In the Gorn's mind at least, they were the more vulnerable part, and that was a pretty good indication to Drel on where he should strike next.

Drel made his move. He stepped closer to the Gorn and feinted to the right. The Gorn fell for it and took a swing with his mace. The massive metal ball missed, passing cleanly over Drel's head as he moved closer, into striking range with the _bat'leth_. He side-stepped, turned, and took a swing at the back of the Gorn's left knee. Like many overconfident opponents, the Gorn had neglected to cover his back and there were no metal disks on this side to stop Drel's blade. The _bat'leth_ sunk into the reptile's knee, severing tendons and muscles. Its tip scored bone as Antori ripped it free. The Gorn howled in pain and sank to one knee, its left leg giving out instantly. Antori smiled grimly and moved in for a finishing blow at the Gorn's exposed neck.

Then, the world exploded in pain. He went flying through the air to slam against the rock wall of the pit three meters back. The backhanded swing of the Gorn's mace had caught him totally by surprise and the blow (and subsequent landing) left him gasping for air and reeling with pain. His vision swam for a moment, and when it refocused, he could see the Gorn rising to its feet again. It was limping, dragging its wounded leg behind it, but it was coming on all the same. It lifted its mace over its head, ready to pound Drel into the dust. Drel feebly tried to stir, to reach to the place where his _bat'leth_ had fallen.

Then, a phaser whined. The Gorn froze and dropped its mace. Its eyes rolled back and it fell, a neat smoking hole in the back of its head. Captain Sokar stepped from the shadows and lowered his phaser.

"What did you…go and do that for?" Drel demanded, catching his breath. "I was…winning, you know."

Sokar raised a slanted eyebrow. "Indeed?"

"Well, for a second at least," Drel admitted. "Help me up." The Vulcan officer obliged, giving Drel a hand and pulling him to his feet. Drel winced and touched his chest once he was standing. "Computer, end program," he muttered. The Gorn, the pit, and all of the weapons vanished, replaced with the grid-like metal walls of the holodeck aboard the _USS Nautilus_.

"May I suggest, Drel, that in the future you engage the safety protocols before attempting to practice mortal combat with one of the quadrant's most dangerous species?" Sokar said. As usual, there was not a hint of emotion in the words or the tone, but Drel could sense the other man's concern.

"I did have them on," Drel said, fingering the bruises. "That blow would have crushed my ribcage and killed me instantly without them," he said. "As it is, the bruise just helps to remind me not to let my guard down next time."

"I see," said Sokar, still eyeing his Trill friend dubiously. "Let us hope the lessons learned are worth the price you've paid for them."

Antori nodded wearily. "They will be, if war breaks out and I ever find myself facing one of those things," he said. "It's better to learn all the hard lessons here, rather than out on the field where there _are_ no safety protocols." He paused and met his Captain's eyes. "Correct me if I'm wrong, sir, but you didn't come down here just to watch me train, did you?"

Sokar shook his head. "You are correct, Commander," he said, leading them toward the exit. "In fact, I came to inform you of one of our new arrivals and ask if you wanted to welcome her as she beams aboard."

Drel eyed him strangely. "You mean the new Ensign? The one who'll be assisting Doctor Harold?" He shook his head. "I'll pass. I hear the Doc'll be greeting her personally anyway."

"Indeed he will, but I thought you might like to be there yourself, seeing as how you'll be serving as her field docent," Sokar said. He said it so plainly, as though commenting on the weather conditions of a near-airless moon, that at first Drel didn't understand the implications of what he was hearing.

"Wait, _field docent_?" he repeated after a moment. "Sokar, I've heard she's a Trill, but I haven't heard anything about me being connected with her in any other way, much less as her field docent."

Sokar stopped in the corridor and raised an eyebrow at Drel. "That is most perplexing, Drel," he said. "I received notice from the Trill Symbiosis Commission that you were to serve as her field docent no less than five days ago. I had assumed you would have received a similar message."

Antori shook his head. "You know I don't check my messages. No one ever sends me anything these days."

"Perhaps it would be wise if you did so now," Sokar suggested. He made a slight motion with his hand, indicating the direction of Drel's quarters.

Drel regarded him for a moment, realization dawning. "You're serious, aren't you," he said.

Sokar said nothing, only raising his eyebrow once again, as if the very suggestion that he could be anything but serious were a curiosity to him.

Antori swore. He started toward his quarters, then turned back. "This Ensign, when does she beam aboard, exactly?"

"Two hours and sixteen minutes," said Captain Sokar.

Antori swore again. He turned on his heel and started down the corridor at a jog. "I'll be in my quarters, getting ready, and reading my messages," he said. "Tell the Doc I'll join him in the transporter room as soon as I can!"


	4. Arrival

Disclaimer: Star Trek and all associated characters and situations are the property of CBS studios. Star Trek Online is the creation of Cryptic and Perfect World. All are here used by myself for entertainment purposes only, without permission or intent to profit.

Author's Note: The _USS Nautilus_ was a Miranda-class starship that appeared in the background of the DS9 episode "Tears of the Prophets," where it was one of three ships that assisted the _Defiant_ in destroying the power generator for the orbital weapon's platforms in the First Battle of Chin'toka. ...Yup, I'm a nerd.

Edit: Stardates have been recalculated with the help of the TNG Stardate Calculator available on TrekGuide .com in order to provide more consistent Stardates across multiple stories. This does, however, make the Stardates here slightly out of sync with those used in the game's lore.

**Arrival**

_Ensign Carlin Agran's Personal Log, Stardate 79770.9:_

_I'm beaming aboard the _USS Nautilus_, for my first posting. I'll be acting as a junior medical officer, assisting the ship's chief medical officer, Doctor James Howard. Honestly, it's a pretty boring assignment, and the _Nautilus_ is an older ship used for lighter duties to boot. But this is almost exactly like the first posting of Jorel Quinn. If I can do better at it than him, maybe I can make him see he was wrong to leave me and mother in the first place. I should also be meeting my field docent, Drel. It's vital that I make a good first impression, and win Drel's approval as quickly as possible. With my field docent's approval, my selection by the Symbiosis Commission is virtually guaranteed, and their approval will the ultimate proof that my father was wrong when he abandoned me to court the Commission's favor himself, twenty-two years ago._

Ensign Carlin Agran materialized on the pad in the transporter room of the _USS Nautilus_ just as man in a red commander's uniform walked in. His uniform was a little wrinkled and his blond hair was ruffled, partly concealing the Trill spots on his forehead. Nevertheless, he smiled disarmingly as he saw Carlin. "Ensign Carlin Agran, I presume?" he said, extending a hand.

"That's correct, sir," Carlin said, shaking his hand.

"Welcome aboard the _USS Nautilus_," the man said. He motioned toward a human man in science blues who was standing beside the transporter operator. "May I introduce Doctor James Howard, the ship's chief medical officer."

"A pleasure to meet you, Ensign," said the Doctor, stepping forward to take Carlin's hand. He smiled and wrinkles crinkled in the corners of his eyes. "I'm the old man you'll be assisting on this ship," he explained.

Carlin nodded. Though she was qualified for bridge duty as a science officer with her Astrophysics degree, she had requested an assignment that would use her Xenobiology degree: nurse and field medic aboard a small starship. It was the very same first assignment Jorel Quinn had taken, though of course _his_ first posting hadn't been a decorated veteran starship from the Dominion War, like the _USS Nautilus_. This, combined with her making it through the selection process of the Symbiosis Commission and receiving a symbiont, ought to spark Jorel Quinn's ire and prove he'd been wrong to abandon her. The assignment shouldn't be too difficult, considering that _Nautilus_ was a small Miranda-class ship. As for the symbiont selection process, that shouldn't pose any challenge at this stage, so long as she stayed out of trouble and impressed her field docent. Speaking of which…

"Where is Drel?" she asked, trying to sound casual.

The man in red cleared his throat. "That would be me," he said. He looked down and straightened his uniform self-consciously for a moment. "Sorry, I guess I never introduced myself properly. I'm Commander Antori Drel, first officer on the _Nautilus_, and—if I read my message from the Symbiosis Commission right—I'm also your field docent."

Carlin tried to smile graciously. "Of course, Commander Antori Drel," she said. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"You as well," said Drel. He motioned to the door. "Allow me to show you to your quarters."

Carlin picked up her cargo container and followed him. Internally, she cursed herself for her idiocy. _Of course, he's Drel. If I'd done any research at all on Drel himself, I'd have known that._ But she hadn't. The only joined individual she'd researched was Jorel Quinn and all she'd known about Drel was that he and Quinn had a disagreement, such that Quinn wouldn't like her choice of Drel as a field docent one bit. She'd had no idea what he'd looked like or was like, no idea he was so handsome…she cut that thought off. _Would it have killed me to at least look up his personnel file?_ She berated herself, tugging at her pony tail with her free hand. _So much for good first impressions._


	5. Field Docent

Disclaimer: Star Trek and all associated characters and situations are the property of CBS studios. Star Trek Online is the creation of Cryptic and Perfect World. All are here used by myself for entertainment purposes only, without permission or intent to profit.

Author's Note: According to the DS9 episode, "Playing God" the actual instructions for a field docent are fairly detailed...maybe they trimmed them down over the years?

Edit: Stardates have been recalculated with the help of the TNG Stardate Calculator available on TrekGuide .com in order to provide more consistent Stardates across multiple stories. This does, however, make the Stardates here slightly out of sync with those used in the game's lore.

* * *

**Field Docent**

USS Nautilus_, First Officer Antori Drel's Log, Stardate 79772.3:_

_The Trill Symbiosis Commission is finally giving me a chance to prove that I can take my place among the "responsible" joined individuals in Trill society by making me Carlin Agran's field docent. While I may not care much for their idea of "responsibility," doing a good job of this assignment will open a lot of opportunities for me among my people. Even if _I_ personally don't take advantage of them, a later host might thank me. I'm not sure why Carlin requested me specifically as her field docent, nor why the Symbiosis Commission chose to honor her request. What I do know is that I had better not screw this up…and that I have no idea what I'm doing._

"So much for good first impressions," Antori Drel muttered.

"Why are Ensign Agran's first impressions of you so important?" asked Captain Sokar, sitting across from him in the officer's mess. "It was my understanding that it was she who was to be evaluated, not the other way around."

"Oh, she is," said Drel, "But there's more to it than that. This is my first assignment as a field docent, and if I screw it up, it'll likely be my last."

"And being field docent again is something you desire?" asked Sokar.

Drel shook his head vigorously.

Sokar arched an eyebrow. "Curious. Then why do you seek it?"

"Because having a field docent position, or being eligible for one, is a way to get into the Symbiosis Commission's good graces," Drel explained. "I'm on thin ice with them already as it is—they think I've taken on too much too soon accepting a front-line position in Starfleet in my second host—and if I screw things up with this initiate…"

"I see."

"The problem is I haven't the foggiest idea how to be a good field docent," said Antori. "It's not like there's an engineer's manual for it, and they sure don't teach it in any martial arts classes! All the guidance I got from the Commission was _show the initiate life as a joined Trill and evaluate her suitability for joining_." He leaned back. "I've gone over her file. It's outstanding. Two degrees, a number of academic commendations, a spotless disciplinary record, high scores in every evaluation the Commission throws at initiates…"

"So you believe she is suitable for joining, then," said Sokar.

"That's just it: I don't know," said Derl. "The Symbiosis Commission has all her records as surely as I do. They don't need me to double-check her test scores."

"Logically, they need you for an evaluation which captures some aspect of her candidacy their testing and the records do not reflect," said Sokar.

"Exactly! But what does that mean?" Drel sipped his coffee and sat back.

They were silent for a minute, both men lost in thought, then Sokar spoke. "If I recall correctly, Drel, you selected your previous and current hosts by specific request." Drel nodded. "And may I ask what it was that made you choose these particular individuals?"

Drel smirked. "They both had spunk," he said.

Sokar raised an eyebrow. "Then perhaps you could evaluate whether or not Ensign Agran has _spunk_, as you call it."

Drel nodded. "I'm pretty sure it's not a universal quality that all symbionts look for in potential hosts, but…well, at least it's a starting point." He straightened. "The only way to determine character like that will be to test it and observe it. With your permission, sir, I'd like to have Ensign Agran start attending senior staff meetings. With any luck, that will give me a chance to see her in action, and judge how she holds up under pressure."

"Permission granted," said Sokar. "I look forward to meeting her." For a moment, Drel thought the Vulcan might be smiling.


	6. The Captain's Table

Disclaimer: Star Trek and all associated characters and situations are the property of CBS studios. Star Trek Online is the creation of Cryptic and Perfect World. All are here used by myself for entertainment purposes only, without permission or intent to profit.

**The Captain's Table**

USS _Nautilus, Junior Medical Officer Carlin Agran's Log, Stardate 63056.6:_

_Commander Drel has invited me to join the senior officer's briefings. While I'm flattered, to be honest, I feel very much out of place. Today, we received a distress call from inside a protostellar nebula, and Captain Sokar called a meeting of the ship's senior staff to determine the best course of action. I'm not sure what I can contribute to such a meeting, but I know I have to try in order to impress Drel._

One week later, Carlin sat at the conference table, surrounded by senior officers and trying not to feel out of place. She made herself let go of her ponytail and tried to thrust her nervousness aside as chief science officer Lieutenant Randal Brooks began his presentation.

"The distress call we're receiving is definitely originating inside the nebula," the lieutenant began, tapping the display on the wall. "It's from a Ferengi freighter. The interference inside the nebula is too great to get a clear reading on the ship, but we've at least been able to confirm its type and position."

"According to the Ferengi captain, his ship was attacked by Orion pirates," said Commander Drel. "His engines were damaged and he hid his ship in the nebula until the Orions moved on. Now, he needs our help to get back out again."

"He picked one hell of a hiding place," Carlin muttered to herself, studying the readings on the conditions within the nebula.

"What was that, Ensign?" Drel asked.

Carlin swallowed, afraid she'd disappointed him by speaking out of turn. There was nothing for it now, though. "I…I only meant, sir, that it's going to be very tricky getting the freighter out of the nebula, given the conditions inside."

"Care to elaborate?" asked Drel.

"Please do," said Captain Sokar, steepling his fingers.

Carlin suddenly found herself the center of attention in a room where everyone had more years experience in their fields than she had total years since Induction Day at Starfleet Academy. _I blew it_, she thought, but she forced herself not to look away or tug out a fistful her hair in anxiety. _If I'm doomed to make an idiot of myself, I'm at least going to make sure I'm the best idiot I can be_. She cleared her throat and pointed to the readout of the nebula on the wall display. "This is a protostellar nebula, like the McAllister C-5 Nebula near the Federation-Cardassian boarder," she explained. "It's got high levels of particle flux throughout. If the freighter was any deeper in, we probably wouldn't be able to detect it at all. As it is, we won't be able to get a good enough sensor lock to use the tractor beam or the transporter. We also can't risk going in after the freighter, since the particle flux will corrode our outer hull."

Lieutenant Brooks nodded confirmation of her words and, to her surprise, Drel smiled.

"Ensign Agran is essentially correct," said Lieutenant T'Paie, the chief engineer. "We will be unable to reconfigure sensors to compensate for the particle flux. Our vessel's design is also substantially older than that of the Ferengi freighter, rendering its hull much more vulnerable to the nebula's effects. It would be most unwise to take the _Nautilus_ into the nebula after the freighter."

Sokar nodded sagely. "Suggestions?" he prompted.

Drel looked pointedly at Carlin. She shifted in her seat and found, to her surprise, that she actually did have an idea. "The _Nautilus_' hull won't be able to stand up to the nebula, but one of our Type-11 shuttles might do the trick. They're newer designs, so they should be able to handle the stress of the particle flux better than the old _Miranda_-Class. Also, they have less surface area for the corrosion to work on, which should buy them some time."

"Agreed," said Drel, again smiling.

"The sensors of the shuttle may not be able to penetrate the freighter's hull," Lieutenant Brook pointed out. "Beaming the crew out could be difficult."

"I imagine the Feregni would rather we towed their vessel out with its cargo intact, even if it meant risking their lives," Sokar put in. Maybe it was Carlin's imagination, but the Vulcan sounded annoyed.

"That's out of the question," Drel said. "According to their last transmission, that freighter's been in there almost 70 hours. New design or not, their hull has got to be corroded through in places. Add the stress of a tractor beam to that and the freighter will break up."

"Given the likely alternative, we may be able to persuade them to leave their cargo and save their lives," said Sokar.

"Rule of Acquisition 125," Lieutenant Emma Frost, the chief conn officer, quoted, "You can't make a deal if you're dead." Sokar and T'Paie stared at her as if she'd just slapped a gutted fish down on the conference room table. The human lieutenant smirked and averted her gaze from the two Vulcans. "Sorry, I couldn't resist."

Drel ignored the exchange, though Carlin thought she saw a hint of a smirk tugging at the edge of his mouth as well. "We'll need a couple of volunteers for the shuttle crew. It'll need a good pilot to navigate conditions in the nebula. Someone with medical training would also be good, in case some of the Ferengi crew is injured."

"I'll be the pilot," Lieutenant Frost said.

"I'll be the medic," Carlin volunteered. It was only reasonable, since she was the one who'd suggested they use a shuttle in the first place. Besides, risking the life of Doctor Howard on this mission would just be foolish. Then, of course, she also had to admit that she felt a little excited at the prospect of getting to see the inside of her first nebula…though admittedly less-than-excited about seeing it from a shuttlecraft.

"It's decided then," said Captain Sokar. "Gather medkits and any other supplies you need to launch within the hour."

"Make it a quick trip," Drel instructed. "Just there and back. Don't put the shuttle in any more risk than you have to."

"Understood, sir," said Carlin and Emma Frost, before smiling to each other.


	7. Rescue Mission

Disclaimer: Star Trek and all associated characters and situations are the property of CBS studios. Star Trek Online is the creation of Cryptic and Perfect World. All are here used by myself for entertainment purposes only, without permission or intent to profit.

**Rescue Mission**

USS Nautilus_, Junior Medical Officer Carlin Agran's Log, Supplemental:_

_It seems I managed to contribute to the senior staff meeting after all. Commander Drel has assigned me and Lieutenant Emma Frost to take a shuttle into the nebula to rescue the crew of the Ferengi freighter. I'm both nervous and excited. We'll need to complete the mission quickly, before the particle flux in the nebula damages our shuttle—or destroys the Ferengi freighter with all hands._

"Shuttlecraft One to _Nautilus_, we're about to enter the nebula," said Lieutenant Emma Frost.

"Acknowledged, Shuttlecraft One," came Captain Sokar's voice, calm and measured as always. "Be advised that you will lose contact with us once you enter the nebula, as the shuttle's communications systems are insufficiently powerful to penetrate the nebula at range."

"Understood, _Nautilus_," Emma replied. "Entering the nebula now. Shuttlecraft One out." She deactivated the comm and glanced over to see Ensign Carlin clinging to the armrests of her seat. "What's the matter, Carlin?"

"I don't like flying," Carlin admitted, trying unsuccessfully to make herself let go of the armrests. They passed into the nebula and she heard the gases _whoosh_ against the hull. She squeezed her eyes shut.

"What? You don't like flying, but you joined Starfleet?" Emma asked in disbelief. "All we _do_ is fly!"

"Starships are different," Carlin insisted.

"How so?"

Carlin gritted her teeth. "I get airsick, okay?"

Emma chuckled. "Okay, Carlin. I'll try to make the ride as smooth as possible."

Carlin relaxed a little and opened her eyes—though she pointedly avoided looking out the window in front of her. "Thanks, Lieutenant," she said.

"My name's Emma," the human woman replied. "You can use it. Honest, I don't get upset."

Carlin smirked. "Thanks, Emma."

"That's better," Emma said, flashing Carlin a smile in return before looking back to her controls. "You newbies are always so uptight and formal your first year out of the Academy. Sometimes it makes me nervous around you, like maybe I accidently put on my dress uniform this morning."

Carlin laughed. "I'll try not to make you nervous," she said.

"Hey, no harm, no foul," said Emma. "I had my awkward phases, too, you know. The good news is you grow out of them. I mean, just look at me: if you're lucky and don't kill yourself with an ulcer first, maybe someday you'll be just like me." She grinned broadly.

Carlin suppressed the urge to laugh again. "Forgive me, Lieutenant, if I decide I don't want to grow up to be _exactly_ like you." She fingered the Trill spots at her hairline. "After all, I'm rather fond of these."

"The spots do add a nice touch, I must admit." Emma's console chimed. "We're approaching the freighter. See if you can get a lock on the crew."

Carlin turned to her console, but shook her head. "There's too much interference. I can't even seem to scan inside the freighter's hull."

"Let me guess, particle flux?"

Carlin studied the readout again, tapping several buttons. "No, at least, not _just_ particle flux. It looks like some of the interference is coming from within the ship itself. Maybe the freighter's warp core is leaking."

Emma scowled. "Wouldn't that just be great." She smoothly set the shuttle at rest relative to the damaged freighter. "Do you think you can hail them?"

Carlin nodded. "If I boost power to the communications systems and try to harmonize our signal with the background radiation, I think I can establish a strong signal." Her console chimed. "There! Channel open."

Emma nodded and turned to the audio-visual pickup. "This is Lieutenant Emma Frost of the Federation starship _Nautilus_ hailing Ferengi freighter. Do you copy?"

For a moment, there was silence, then Carlin's console beeped. "I'm receiving a response. Let me try to clear it up." She worked for a moment, using algorithms to pick out the transmission from the background radiation and strengthen the signal reception. "There, that should do it. Audio only, though. For some reason, the freighter's not transmitting visual."

She hit a key and the breathy voice of a Ferengi male came over the shuttle's speakers. "This is Captain Pozel of the _Sopolkin_. It's about time you hew-mons showed up. What took you so long? My ship is falling apart over here!"

Emma rolled her eyes. "Sorry for the delay, _Fur-in-gee_," she said.

"Are you making fun of me, hew-mon?"

Carlin broke in before an argument could start. "Look, we don't have much time before your ship breaks up. My readings are already showing several hull breeches on the lower levels. We need to beam you over here."

Emma nodded. "Your cargo will be lost, but your lives will be saved. I know that's harsh, but remember, the 125th Rule of Acquisition states-"

"Blah, blah, blah! Who cares what it says?" Pozel replied. "The important thing is you can't beam me off. The interference from the nebula is too great. You'll have to beam yourselves over here with transport enhancers to get a lock."

Carlin nodded. "He's right. If we can gather all the survivors into one room and set up the transport enhancers around them, we should be able to get a clean lock and beam them all over at once."

"Forget the crew," Pozel said. "One of you needs to come over and rescue me. The crew's dead already. At least, I think they are. There was some big explosion in engineering when we were attacked. I haven't heard from anyone back there since."

"Could there still be survivors?" Emma asked.

"I suppose, but why bother with them?"

"We should at least check," Carlin said to Emma.

The Lieutenant nodded. "We'll both beam in. I'll go to the bridge to rescue the captain. You check engineering for survivors. We'll both bring transport enhancers and the computer will activate them immediately and beam us back if the ship shows any signs of instability."

"You're wasting your time, when you should be focusing on saving me," said Pozel. "But I suppose it's your time to waste, hew-mons."

"Excuse me: that's human and _Trill_," Carlin corrected.

"Whatever," said Pozel. A console bleeped in the background on his side. "I'm sending you coordinates where you can safely beam in. You should be able to reach the bridge and engineering pretty easily from there. _Sopolkin_ out."

Carlin's console chimed. "I've got the coordinates," she said, checking them against her scans of the freighter. "Looks like he's putting us in amidships. There don't appear to be any hull breeches in the area, or between that section and the bridge or engineering sections."

"Good," said Emma. She tapped her console. "I'm locking the autopilot into station-keeping mode. You make sure the computer is set to remotely activate the transport enhancers and beam us back if the ship starts breaking up."

Carlin nodded, making the necessary adjustments to the programming. She had programmed a computer to react to telemetry before, of course: in her Astrophysics classes it was a common practice for getting readings from randomly-appearing phenomena. But the life of her shipmate had never depended on her work before. She ran a quick series of tests to make sure the program was ready, then she grabbed a carry case of three transport enhancers from the storage locker. With that in one hand and her medkit in the other, she joined Lieutenant Frost on the transporter pad at the rear of the cabin.

Emma waited till Carlin was standing beside her, then tapped her communicator. "Computer, energize," she ordered.

The world shimmered around Carlin and a moment later she found herself standing in a dimly lit corridor. The floor was tilted to one side at a slight angle and there was an incessant groaning and popping from the metal walls.

"It sounds like this freighter doesn't have much time left," Emma said. She tapped Carlin on the shoulder and pointed her down the corridor. "You go that way. I'll go this way. Contact me if you find any survivors, and for heaven's sake get them off this wreck as soon as you can!"

"Aye, sir!" Carlin said, rushing off.

"That's Emma!" the Lieutenant shouted after her.

Carlin did not have time to respond. She made her way through the damaged ship's corridors as quickly as she could. She had a general idea of where engineering must be from the sensor readouts, and fortunately the freighter had a pretty common-sense design, with the main corridor leading directly to engineering. When she arrived, though, the door was sealed and wouldn't open.

"Computer, open hatch to engineering," she ordered.

The computer made some garbled tones, then responded in a distinctly male voice. "Warning: warp core damaged. Engineering compartment is flooded with radiation."

Carlin set down the transport enhancers and opened her tricorder. There was indeed radiation behind the hatch, and it would probably have been risky for a Ferengi to spend more than a few minutes in there. Trill had higher radiation tolerance, though, courtesy of having a homeworld with very active tectonics that brought heavy metals to the surface with relative frequency. She would probably need to spend a couple hours in there in order to experience ill effects, and she had no intention of staying so long. "Computer, override safety protocols," she ordered. "Open hatch to engineering."

The computer made another series of garbled noises, then it said, "Unable to comply. Hatch lock is jammed. Manual override required. Please initiate manual override sequence."

Carlin rolled her eyes. "I don't have time for this." If there _were_ Ferengi behind that door and they were somehow still alive, every second counted for getting them off this freighter in one piece. She put away her tricorder and drew her phaser. She pointed it at the lock and fired a long burst. Molten metal dribbled away from the resulting hole, quickly cooling.

"Manual override successful," the computer said, apparently oblivious to her unorthodox methods. "Opening hatch."

The hatch slid open and Carlin stepped inside. Engineering was a large, round room built around a squat warp core covered in dingy brown radiation shielding. There were definite signs of damage. There was an evident hole in the radiation shielding, which looked oddly similar to the hole Carlin had just melted through the hatch with her phaser. She thought at first she may have accidentally hit the core and panicked, but then realized the hole did not match the trajectory of her beam at all—and there was no mark on the place where her beam would have gone if it had penetrated the hatch. _Maybe an Orion boarder caused it_, she thought. She glanced around the room. _Where's the crew?_

She opened her tricorder and began scanning for lifesigns, but found none. She was picking up an odd, low-level biogenic field, though. _That could be masking lifesigns_, she thought. _I wonder where it's coming from_. Biogenic fields were notoriously difficult to localize, but since this one was low-powered, she thought she could triangulate its position. She adjusted the controls and took a reading, walked a few meters, then took another reading. She smiled, as the bearings from each reading combined in her tricorder to give her a basic location for the field. _It seems to be coming from somewhere just on the other side of the warp core_.

She stepped around the side of the warp core, but stopped in her tracks. For a moment, she felt an overwhelming nausea that had nothing to do with radiation or airsickness. It had everything to do with what lay on the other side of the warp core. There, she found the bodies of three Ferengi crewmembers, and they had not died of radiation poisoning. One of them had been decapitated. A second was nearly torn in half by a deep gash in his torso. A third—mercifully partially-obscured behind a console—was nonetheless clearly missing an arm. Pozel had said there was an explosion. One of the consoles on this side was a wreck, and it did look like it had exploded. Blackened pieces of it were lying all over the deck and one of them was embedded in the torso of the second corpse.

Carlin squeezed her eyes shut and stepped back from the scene. _I've seen enough_, she told herself. _There are no survivors, and we're on a time crunch. I need to get back to the shuttle so we can get out of here and back to the _Nautilus_._ But something didn't feel right to her. She opened her eyes again and made herself look at the corpses, this time as a professional. She had seen cadavers (both real and holographic) that died in all sorts of circumstances during her Xenobiology training. These injuries looked more consistent with penetrating and lacerating trauma then the compression and heat of an explosion. Of course, all the shrapnel lying around would have been moving pretty fast, and some of it was probably pretty sharp—it could have caused the wounds. Something still wasn't right, though…

She shook her head. _That's a good enough explanation_, she told herself. _No further investigation is required, and time is of the essence. I need to focus on completing the mission quickly, like Commander Drel expects. After all, it's what Jorel Quinn would do._ But to her mind, that seemed just another really good reason not to walk away from this just yet. _Jorel Quinn would let his sense of urgency overwhelm the need to find out how these people died, but I'm not Jorel Quinn: I'm better!_ She opened her medical tricorder and moved to the second victim, the one with the shrapnel embedded in his torso.

Immediately she noticed something was wrong. The shrapnel was embedded in the wrong part of the wound, near the point of entry of whatever had torn through the body, rather than the point of exit. She opened her medkit and gingerly removed the piece of metal with the forceps. It was razor-sharp, alright, but on the wrong side. _This didn't cause his wounds_, she realized. _It probably didn't even hit him at all: it was planted on his body after the fact to make it _look_ like he'd been killed by shrapnel_.

Then, there was the biogenic field her tricorder was picking up. It was stronger here, as if it were coming from the corpse. _Impossible: _live_ Ferengi don't emit biogenic fields, much less dead ones_. She leaned closer, examining the body for possible sources. That's when she noticed them: thin green tendrils in the wound. They were pulsing slowly, clearly alive. Carlin recoiled, repulsed, but she knew that she'd found an important clue, probably the only one she'd have time to find—or maybe the only one she'd ever find, considering how much trouble someone had gone to in order to make it look like the crew had been killed some other way. She pulled the miniature biological sample kit from the medkit and placed one of the tendrils into the stasis field before closing it up again. She could give it a proper analysis aboard the _Nautilus_.

For now, she had enough information to say that something was definitely wrong. The crew had died violently, but not from an explosion. It was possible that Orion boarders had cut them down with bladed instruments, but then why would they have tried to make it look like an accident? Pozel should have known the fate of his crew, but he clearly didn't—which reminded Carlin: she needed to check in with Lieutenant Frost, and warn her of possible danger.

Just then, the deck bucked under Carlin's feet, tilting thirty degrees to the right. The freighter moaned and rumbled around her. Carlin steadied herself and tapped her communicator. "Agran to Frost, what's happening?"

"Frost here," the Lieutenant responded after a moment. "I'm cut off from the bridge. That whole section of the ship just opened to the nebula. Captain Pozel is gone. We have to get out of here before the rest of the ship goes too. Did you find the rest of the crew?"

"Yes, but they're all dead," Carlin reported. She pulled a transport enhancer from the carrying case and set it up. There would be time to continue her investigation and inform Emma of the results later. "I'm ready to beam back to the shuttle."

"As am I," said the Lieutenant.

Carlin tapped her combadge again to open a channel to the waiting shuttlecraft. "Computer, two to beam up!"

A moment later, Carlin materialized back on the shuttle's transporter pad, standing beside Emma. She turned to the Lieutenant immediately, opening her tricorder. "There's something you should see," she said.

"Later," said Emma, moving to her console with quick strides. "For now, we've got to get out of this nebula. I, for one, will be happy to see the last of it."

Carlin shuddered. "Agreed." She thought she'd be fascinated by it, and in a way, she was, but the horror of the crew's unknown fate overwhelmed her intellectual curiosity about the nebula they'd died in. She took her seat beside Emma. "Just remember to take it easy on the thrusters," she asked.

Emma eyed her askance. "Why? Did you do something to the inertial dampners?"

Carlin rolled her eyes. "No, you dork, I get airsick, remember?"

Emma cleared her throat. "Right, of course. But in the future, try to address me more properly, Ensign. You may call me Lieutenant, Ms. Frost, or some combination thereof."

Carlin was a little startled, but tried to take it in stride. "Of course, Lieutenant Frost," she said. She turned to her console to cover the rest of her reaction, and was just in time to see the aft sections of the freighter collapse. The collapse sent shockwaves through the freighter, twisting it sideways and breaking it in half. More shockwaves followed, ripping the ship into further chunks. Soon, debris were all that was left.

"Laying in a course for _Nautilus_," Emma Frost reported. "Better hang on tight, Ensign."

The acceleration was hard, pulling the shuttle away from the wreck with a sharp turn. It did not take long for the freighter to become obscured from view behind the violet clouds of the nebula. Then a minute later, those clouds were lit from behind by a massive explosion as the Ferengi freighter's warp core collapsed, vaporizing whatever remained of the _Sopolkin_—and taking all evidence of the mysterious deaths of its crew with it…except for the sample in Carlin's med kit, the data in her tricorder, and the memories in her mind.

For the sake of those memories, and of the three dead Ferengi, she needed to find out exactly what happened to them, and why.


	8. Investigation

Disclaimer: Star Trek and all associated characters and situations are the property of CBS studios. Star Trek Online is the creation of Cryptic and Perfect World. All are here used by myself for entertainment purposes only, without permission or intent to profit.

Author's Note: This chapter assumes that the Undine (Species 8472) infiltration talked about in Star Trek Online's Path to 2409 was not common knowledge among Starfleet personnel. It also assumes the Undine have improved upon the process of disguising themselves seen in the _Voyager_ episode "In the Flesh," allowing them to assume and discard forms at will-an assumption the cutscene in "Diplomatic Orders" in Star Trek Online seems to support. Anyway, I am indebted to _Voyager_ for introducing me to the scariest monsters (in my opinion) ever to haunt the Star Trek universe. :)

Edit: Stardates have been recalculated with the help of the TNG Stardate Calculator available on TrekGuide .com in order to provide more consistent Stardates across multiple stories. This does, however, make the Stardates here slightly out of sync with those used in the game's lore.

* * *

**Investigation**

USS Nautilus_, Junior Medical Officer Carlin Agran's Log, Stardate 79796.7:_

_I've completed my analysis of the sample taken from the dead Ferengi on the doomed freighter, _Sopolkin_, but it only raises more questions than answers. The tendril is made up of highly advanced cells with densely-coded triple-helix DNA. I've searched the database and there's only one possible match for the sample, a hostile, dangerous, extra-galactic race encountered by the_ USS Voyager_ over thirty years ago in the Delta Quadrant and known only by their Borg designation: Species 8472. According to the file, Species 8472 leaves cellular remnants like these on anyone unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end of its deadly claws. It's horrifying to think those Ferengi died at the hands of such a vicious alien, but it's also perplexing. What was a member of Species 8472 doing aboard a Ferengi freighter in the Alpha Quadrant? Why did It kill the freighter's crew and leave the captain unharmed? Who tried to cover up the murder of the crew and make it look like an accident, and why? The deeper I look, the more questions there are. I've asked Lieutenant Emma Frost to join me on the holodeck, despite the late hour. Perhaps something she saw while aboard the freighter will shed more light onto this mystery._

Lieutenant Emma Frost yawned, coming up behind Ensign Carlin Agran, who was busy typing commands into a console on the holodeck. "This had better be important, Ensign," Frost said. "You know it's almost midnight, right?"

"Yes, sir, I'm sorry about my timing," Carlin said, "but I think you should see this." She typed a final command and then looked up. A holographic projection of the Ferengi freighter _Sopolkin_ shimmered into life in the center of the room. It was badly damaged, its hull corroded by particle flux from the nebula that had been its grave. Suddenly, the forward sections of the freighter burst apart. Minutes later, the aft sections collapsed, sending shockwaves through the remainder of the ship, buckling its hull and twisting it, pulling the freighter in two. In moments, the chain reaction had broken the freighter up completely, after which it disappeared in a white flash as its exposed warp core finally corroded and breached.

"I don't see how this is worth waking me up, Ensign," Frost said. "I'll admit it's an impressive reconstruction, though. That is pretty much exactly how the _Sopolkin_ was destroyed."

"That's just it, Lieutenant," Carlin said. "The freighter _shouldn't_ have been destroyed, at least not like that." She punched another series of commands into her console. "Take a look at this. This is a projection of how the freighter _should_ have broken up, based on sensor data taken from the shuttle on the freighter's condition and the environment of the nebula at the time."

The hologram of the damaged freighter reset itself. After a moment, it began to collapse and break up again, but this time the collapse started from the aft sections, twisting the ship in half and separating the forward sections, which crumbled themselves minutes later.

Carlin punched a new sequence into the console and the two simulations played side-by-side. She pointed. "The collapse should have started here-see?—in the lower levels aft, where the hull was already badly damaged. The forward sections, where the collapse actually started, were relatively intact. Also, notice how the forward sections go in each simulation. In this one, the forward sections collapse inward due to the pressure of the nebula and the failure of the outer hull, as they should. But over here, the forward section bursts apart, exploding outward into space. Notice the time index too: the actual collapse happened over two hours sooner than it should have."

Frost shrugged. "So, the _Sopolkin_ didn't break up the way the computer thinks it should have. So what? The computer doesn't have all the data. The shuttle's sensors weren't able to penetrate the freighter's hull, right?"

"No, but I've filled in the gaps with engineering specs from the freighter's records. It shouldn't make a difference."

"Obviously it does," said Frost, crossing her arms. "What does any of this matter, anyway? The rescue mission was two days ago. Sure, it was a failure, but Captain Sokar told us that it wasn't our fault. We informed the Ferengi crew's families. That should be the end of it."

"But we didn't tell them the whole story," Carlin insisted. "As a matter of fact, we still don't _know_ the whole story."

Frost shifted and studied Carlin. "Like what, Ensign?"

"Like the crew," said Carlin. "The Ferengi captain said they'd died in an explosion."

"Yes, I remember you found their bodies." She paused. "There _was_ an explosion, wasn't there?"

"There was, but it wasn't what killed them. According to my analysis, the bodies were ripped apart _before_ the explosion. Someone came along and tried to make it look like an accident later, then deliberately flooded the compartment with radiation by melting through the shielding on the warp core with a phaser blast."

Lieutenant Frost took a step back. "That's a pretty bold accusation to make. You're saying Pozel murdered his own crew?"

Carlin shook her head. "He may have been the one to cover it up, maybe, but he didn't kill the other Ferengi. Cellular residue on one of the bodies was a positive match for only one known lifeform: Species 8472."

Lieutenant Frost stared at her mutely, eyes wide with shock.

Carlin averted her gaze, brushing back her hair with one hand while she studied the simulations again. "It doesn't make any sense. What is Species 8472 doing here now and why would they kill the crew of a Ferengi freighter? Why did someone try to cover it up, and who was it who tried? Was it Pozel, the Ferengi captain? And why did _he_ die? Unless I'm mistaken the destruction of the forward sections is more consistent with an explosion from within the ship than forces from the nebula without…and if that explosion was caused by a bomb planted on the bridge, it could mean that Pozel was murdered as well." She sighed and made herself let go of her ponytail. "I have to tell someone about this. There has to be an investigation."

She tapped her combadge. "Agran to Drel."

"Drel here," came the Commander's voice. "Ensign, are you aware what time it is?"

"Sorry to wake you, Commander, but there's something you should see on the holodeck," she said. "It's about the Ferengi freighter that was lost two days ago."

Antori Drel grumbled something incoherent, then said, "I'm on my way now. Drel out."

As soon as the channel closed, Lieutenant Frost stepped closer to Carlin, her eyes hard. Carlin found herself suddenly acutely aware of how much taller the human woman was. "Why did you contact the first officer and head of security?"

"I think he should know about this, if this really is murder we're dealing with," said Carlin. "Also, Drel—according to my belated research into his background-was an engineer at Utopia Planitia Fleet Yards for decades in his previous host. He probably knows more about engineering than anyone else on this ship. If there's anyone who can parse out what caused the destruction of the Ferengi freighter, it's him."

"So if he comes down here and talks with you, there's a pretty good chance he'll figure out what happened aboard the _Sopolkin_," said Frost, stepping closer. Carlin took a step back and bumped into her console. "There's a pretty good chance he'll find out that a member of Species 8472 killed the crew and the captain too, before taking his place—and he might just find out what happened to Lieutenant Emma Frost, too."

Carlin stared at the other woman. "What do you mean _what happened to Emma Fost_? She came back, I mean, you—" She stopped midsentence, realization dawning as cold horror gripped her stomach. "But you're _not_ Emma Frost. That's why you've been acting differently. You said the alien killed Captain Pozel and took his place…it killed Emma and took her place too."

The alien posing as Frost smiled. "Very good, Ensign. Now guess who I'll kill and replace next!"

Carlin's heart hammered in her chest. She felt for a weapon but she as unarmed. The disguised alien was standing right in front of her now, in easy striking distance. There was only one answer to its question, one person it could kill and replace to make the inquiry Drel was about to launch end before it began. "Me."

"Very good!" The shape of Emma Frost began to bend, stretch and flex transforming from a two-meter tall human woman to a three-meter tall tripedal alien with muscular arms and razor-sharp claws. Somehow it still spoke in Emma's voice, the sound if it assaulting Carlin's mind directly instead of reaching her ears. "Now it's time to die!"

"You'll have to catch me first!" Carlin replied. She ducked under the console while the creature was still transforming and backed away. Unfortunately, the creature was between her and the door. She had to think of some way to confuse it and get around it, and fast.

The creature roared as soon as its transformation was complete. It swept aside the console contemptuously, severing it from the deck with a single swipe of its claws. Then it came for Carlin.

Carlin thought fast, trying to back further away. She was not far from the back wall now. She had to come up with something now. "Computer, generate enclosed maze, 500 meters by 500 meters by 4 meters, all surfaces composed of hardest available alloy!"

"Specify maze pattern," the computer prompted.

The alien was charging at Carlin now. There was no time to choose. "Random!" she shouted. Suddenly, walls of black metal appeared all around her, cutting her off from the charging alien. She heard a resounding _thud_ as it ran into one of the holographic walls. She sighed in relief, but the feeling lasted only a moment. She was still trapped on the holodeck with the most dangerous alien Starfleet had ever encountered, and a maze would only stop it for so long. She needed to find the exit and warn Commander Drel before it did.

She turned in a random direction and started running.


	9. Into the Maze

Disclaimer: Star Trek and all associated characters and situations are the property of CBS studios. Star Trek Online is the creation of Cryptic and Perfect World. All are here used by myself for entertainment purposes only, without permission or intent to profit.

Author's Note: I am aware that, officially, the isomagnetic disintegrator does have an area-of-effect stun setting. However, it seems bizarre to me that one could be hit non-lethally with a sci-fi _bazooka_, so for that reason and for reasons of story, mine has no stun setting. Inspiration for its effect on the holodeck comes from a scene in the _Voyager_ episode "The Killing Game," where an artillery strike has a similar effect. I'm assuming here that the biogenic field the Undine use to hide from sensors is something controlled at will, since the Undine-Emma beams off the freighter just fine in chapter 7, but not so much here. This would also make their disguise forms more effective.

Edit: Stardates have been recalculated with the help of the TNG Stardate Calculator available on TrekGuide .com in order to provide more consistent Stardates across multiple stories. This does, however, make the Stardates here slightly out of sync with those used in the game's lore.

* * *

**Into the Maze**

USS Nautilus_, First Officer Antori Drel's Log, Stardate 79796.7:_

_Two days ago, the Ferengi freighter _Sopolkin_ was lost with all hands in a protostellar nebula, despite the best efforts of Lieutenant Emma Frost and Ensign Carlin Agran to rescue the crew using one of our shuttles. Now, Ensign Agran has woken me up in the middle of the night to tell me she believes she has new evidence about what happened on the _Sopolkin_ and wants me to meet her in the holodeck. Ordinarily, I wouldn't mind meeting a young lady like Carlin Agran on the holodeck late at night, but this is business, not pleasure, and it sounds insane.—Computer, delete last sentence._

Commander Antori Drel made his way down the corridor, trying to straighten his uniform with one hand and rub sleep out of his eyes with the other. Suddenly, his communicator went off again. Carlin's voice came over again, but sounding much more urgent than before. "Agran to Drel!"

He removed his hand from his eyes and tapped his combadge. "Drel here. I'm already on my way to the holodeck, Ensign, you don't have to call-"

But Carlin interrupted him, her voice fearful and her breathing heavy. That alone was enough to send alarm bells ringing in Antori's head. What she said was another thing entirely. "Sir, I have evidence that Lieutenant Emma Frost has been replaced by a shapeshifting member of Species 8472."

Antori stopped in his tracks. He was familiar with all the most dangerous species Starfleet had encountered over the years, and Species 8472 definitely topped that list, beating out even the Borg. "What evidence?" he asked.

"There's no time for that!" said Carlin, sounding panicked. He heard footfalls in the background, then heavy breathing. A moment later, Carlin returned. "Sir, the alien posing as Emma Frost has transformed and is pursuing me in the holodeck. I don't know how much longer I can evade it. It's confessed to killing the crew of the _Sopolkin_ and taking the place of their captain, as well as killing and replacing Emma Frost. There's evidence in the medical computer, records from a cell residue analysis I performed on samples taken from the body of one of the Ferengi crew members. There's also a simulation of the freighter's destruction that proves that it wasn't an accident. You have to get this evidence to the Captain immediately, in case I don't make it…"

Antori shook his head and broke into a run. "Hold on, Carlin! We're not going to let you die. I'm coming for you!" He tapped his combadge again. "Drel to Security! I want three full teams in armed with phaser rifles and photon grenades to meet me on the holodeck, post haste!" There was a startled, "yes, sir!" in reply. Drel ignored it, closing the channel. The teams were good, but if he didn't do something for Carlin soon, she wouldn't live to see them arrive.

"Computer, how many lifesigns are there in the holodeck?" he asked.

"Unable to establish accurate readings," the computer responded. "A biogenic field is interfering with the internal sensors in that section."

"Is Ensign Agran's combadge still active?"

"Affirmative. Ensign Carlin Agran is in the holodeck."

"And Lieutenant Frost?"

"Lieutenant Emma Frost is in the holodeck," said the computer.

If there was any truth to what Carlin had said about Emma Frost, then Carlin was in grave danger. Antori doubled his pace, dashing into a turbolift. "Deck Three, Holodeck!" He took a moment to catch his breath while the turbolift descended. "Computer, is there a program running on the holodeck?"

"Affirmative."

"What program is it?"

"Program is untitled," said the computer. "Program was created at 23:55 today by Ensign Carlin Agran. Program contains zero characters and one environment."

_23:55, just after she called me the first time_, Antori thought. "Describe the environment."

"Environment consists of a maze 500 meters square by 4 meters tall, completely enclosed in walls of neutronium alloy. Maze structure was randomly generated and was last modified by Ensign Carlin Agran 12.6 seconds ago."

"Modified? How?"

"Latest modification was the walling-off of the passageway directly behind Ensign Carlin Agran," said the computer.

Drel let out a slow whistle. "Clever girl," he said. Neutronium was the most resilient substance known to science and if Carlin could use the holodeck to manipulate a maze of the stuff to keep it between herself and the pursuing alien, she had a chance. But there was one weakness in her plan that she hadn't—and, really, couldn't—address. "Computer, lock Lieutenant Emma Frost out of the holodeck controls. Restrict verbal command access to myself and Ensign Carlin Agran. Authorization: Drel-five-beta-three-oh-one."

"Authorization confirmed."

The computer chimed, and the turbolift doors opened at the same time. Antori Drel rushed out, down the hall, and through the double doors to the holodeck.

He found himself in a blank corridor of the maze, with the walls, floor, and ceiling all made of the same black metal, neutronium. Somewhere in this maze, Ensign Carlin Agran was fleeing for her life from one of the most dangerous aliens Starfleet had ever encountered. Antori would need a weapon if he was to save her, and her maze gave him an idea. "Computer, disengage the safety protocols."

"Warning, safety protocols offline," the computer said.

Antori nodded. With the safety protocols disengaged, any holographic weapon he used would do damage just like the real thing: which meant his potential arsenal was limited only by the computer's database, and what he could realistically wield in combat. "Computer, one isomagnetic disintegrator." The silver shoulder-mounted anti-vehicle weapon shimmered into existence at his feet. He picked it up and hefted it into position. Antori had never fired something this big in combat before in real life. _ But when your only limit is your imagination_, he thought, _go big or go home!_

Thus armed, he started into the maze. "Carlin!" he shouted. "Carlin Agran! Where are you?"

"Commander Drel! Is that you?" a voice shouted from somewhere ahead and to the right, though echoes off of the walls made the source difficult to pinpoint.

"Yes, it's me," said Antori. "Carlin, where are you?"

"I'm over here!" the voice said, this time definitely seeming to come from somewhere to the left.

"No! I'm here!" said the voice, from the right this time. "Don't listen to her. She's using my voice to trick you!"

Antori looked first one way, then the other, but he could see nothing but walls. "Computer, delete walls," he said, readying his weapon in case he needed to make a quick shot to defend himself or Ensign Agran. The walls shimmered out of existence and he saw Carlin, startled, staring right at him from a position ahead and to the left. He tracked the disintegrator to the right, toward the source of the other voice and saw…another Ensign Carlin Agran, staring back at him.

The Carlins stared at each other and stepped back, wearing twin expressions of horror. The one on the right turned to Antori. "Commander Drel, the alien is a shapeshifter. It's taking my form to try to trick you."

"It's true," said the other Carlin, "but _she_'s the alien." She pointed to the Carlin on the right.

"Look, I'm the real Carlin," said the one on the right. "I answered you first, while _she_ was too busy shape-shifting into me."

"I was too startled to answer, when I heard her answering first," said the one on the left. She glanced from the other Carlin to Antori and back again. "Look, there should be a simple way to tell us apart. When the alien took Emma Frost's form, it got subtle details of memory and personality wrong."

"It didn't remember that I get airsick in shuttles," said Carlin on the right.

"It forgot that Emma told me to use her first name instead of her rank," said Carlin on the left.

"Even in the form of Captain Pozel it gave itself away by not caring about the 125th Rule of Acquisition when Lieutenant Frost quoted it," the one on the right added.

"So, all I need to do is ask each of you for something only the real Carlin Agran would know," Antori said, looking back and forth between the two of them.

Carlin on the left shrugged. "Or you could stun us both and play it safe."

Antori hefted the isomagnetic disintegrator. "This doesn't have a stun setting."

"I knew that," said Carlin on the right. "See, the alien's slipping already!"

"No, I _didn't_ know that. _You're_ slipping," said the one on the left. "I've never had any cause to study heavy weapons."

"You mean you've never had a chance, being an alien at all…whereas I am familiar enough with Starfleet technology to realize the mistake," said the one on the right.

"We're getting nowhere like this," said Antori. He sighed. "Let's try something different. How about most embarrassing secret?"

Both Carlin's studied their feet. The one on the right answered first. "I hate shuttle rides," she confessed.

"You knew that because I told you I get airsick in them when you were pretending to be Emma," said the one on the left.

Antori shifted his aim to her. "Fine, your turn."

She took a step back, then closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she was looking right at Antori. "Jorel Quinn is my father," she said softly.

"Quinn?" Drel repeated. "As in Rear Admiral Jorel Quinn?"

She nodded.

"Of course he's my father," said Carlin on the right. "I love him to death!"

But Carlin on the left clenched her fists, trembling as a tear slid down her cheek. "Yes, he's my father, but I hate him," she said. "He abandoned me and my mother as soon as he knew she was pregnant."

"It's not like that!" said the other Carlin.

"Check his record," said the Carlin on the left, pulling her hair over her shoulder, and none too gently.

Drel looked from one Carlin to the other, shifting his aim between the two. "Computer, access biographical records on Rear Admiral Jorel Quinn, Starfleet Command."

"Access established," the computer said.

"List known offspring," he ordered.

The computer beeped negatively. "There are no entries matching search parameters in specified file."

"I could have told you he likes to keep family private," said Carlin on the right.

"You'd be lying," said Carlin on the left.

"There's private, and then there's completely off the record," said Drel. "Big difference." He shifted his aim to the Carlin on the right.

Her eyes went wide. "That's it? You've decided to kill me just because the computer can't find my name in his biography? Are you really ready to risk killing the wrong person over that?"

Antori shook his head. "No," he admitted. "But there is one other thing we could try. Computer: is Lieutenant Emma Frost's combadge still active?"

"Affirmative. Lieutenant Emma Frost is in the holodeck."

Drel smiled. "You know what that means? It means one of you isn't wearing the right combadge. The imposter is still wearing the combadge stolen from Emma Frost." Both Carlin's eyes went wide with the sudden realization. The one on the left looked expectantly at the other one. The one on the right just stared, stunned.

"Computer, lock on to Lieutenant Emma Frost's combadge and beam it into space, three kilometers off our starboard bow," said Drel.

The Carlin on the right made a strangled noise, but the transporter was already humming. The air around her shimmered, but when the transporter's glow faded, she was still standing there. The only thing missing was her combadge.

"I guess the alien's biogenic field kept the transporter from beaming it out with the combadge," said the other Carlin, the real one.

"Doesn't matter," said Antori, pointing the disintegrator at the imposter's chest. "You're out of uniform 'ensign.'" He squeezed the trigger.

With the safety protocols disengaged, the blast from a holographic isomagnetic disintegrator should have been enough to crack the hull of a shuttle. As it was, it blew out half a dozen holoemitters and sent the imposter flying across the deck. It landed in a smoking heap, but even as it fell it was changing, shifting and stretching until it was no longer a young Trill medical officer, but a monstrously large three-legged alien. Thick yellow-green blood flowed from its chest. But it did not lie still. It roared and immediately started struggling to its feet.

Drel fired again, but as the bolt passed through the damaged part of the holodeck it fizzled and vanished. It never reached the target.

"Drel! Over here!" Carlin shouted, holding out her hands. She was on the other side of the damaged section and had a clear shot.

Antori tossed her the weapon. She caught it easily, shouldered it while going down on one knee, and fired after only a moment's pause to aim. _She's a natural_, Antori thought, _and she never looked so beautiful_.

The blast blew out another section of holo-emitters and knocked the alien back off its feet with another smoking hole in its abdomen. It started to rise again immediately, but this time it was a struggle. Of course, this time, neither Antori nor Carlin would be able to fire on it again.

But they didn't need to. Just then, the holodeck doors opened and Captain Sokar burst in followed by three full squads of heavily armed security personnel. There was no need to tell them what to target. They leveled their phasers at the imposing alien and fired. The alien staggered under the barrage, but it did not go down. "Photon grenades, now!" Sokar ordered. A dozen photon grenades flew out. The explosion was deafening and it shorted out the entire holodeck, but when the smoke cleared the alien's body was torn apart, lying still.

"Captain Sokar, excellent timing," said Antori.

The Vulcan nodded. "When I heard you had called for three heavily armed security teams to the holodeck in the middle of the night, I surmised the situation was urgent and that my presence would be required." He surveyed the ruined holodeck, eyes coming to rest on the corpse of the alien. "Now, would you and Ensign Agran mind explaining how _this_ came to be in my holodeck?"

Carlin laughed nervously, shoulders slumping with exhaustion. "It's a long story," she said.


	10. Living Well

Disclaimer: Star Trek and all associated characters and situations are the property of CBS studios. Star Trek Online is the creation of Cryptic and Perfect World. All are here used by myself for entertainment purposes only, without permission or intent to profit. I don't own George Herbert, either: I just quote him! :)

Edit: Stardates have been recalculated with the help of the TNG Stardate Calculator available on TrekGuide .com in order to provide more consistent Stardates across multiple stories. This does, however, make the Stardates here slightly out of sync with those used in the game's lore.

* * *

**Living Well**

USS Nautilus_, Junior Medical Officer Carlin Agran's Log, Stardate 79805.0:_

_It's been three days since the alien impersonating Lieutenant Emma Frost was revealed and killed. We've informed Starfleet Command of the Species 8472 infiltration, and their response was classified: Level 10 Clearance, Captain's eyes only. At least we've been able to hold a memorial service for Emma and inform her family that she died trying to save the lives of others aboard that freighter. Doctor Howard and I have also spent the past two days running microcellular scans on all members of the crew to verify that there are no more infiltrators aboard. I wish the successful results made me feel more comfortable. I wish I knew what Jorel Quinn would have done in this situation or what he'll think of my performance…and honestly, I wish I didn't have to care about him anymore. Life in Starfleet is a whole lot more complicated than it seemed at first, though not necessarily a bad kind of complicated, especially not here, with Antori Drel. I don't know if I'll have time for revenge, for proving my father was wrong anymore—but if I give up now, do I prove he was right?_

"Mind if I join you, Carlin?"

Carlin blinked, looking away from the forward windows in the mess hall to see Commander Antori Drel standing beside the seat across the table from her. "Of course, Commander," she said, straightening.

He took his seat gracefully. "You don't mind if I call you Carlin, do you?"

She smiled. "Not at all."

"Good, then you can call me Antori," he said. "Captain Sokar has shared certain details of his transmission from Starfleet Command with me, and I'm authorized to share them with you, since you were directly involved in exposing and stopping the infiltrator."

Carlin nodded.

"First off, they're calling them Undine, the Groundskeepers. Apparently that's the name Species 8472 has assumed for itself," he said. "Second, I'm told this isn't the first time Starfleet has seen infiltrations or attempted infiltrations like this. In 2375, the _USS Voyager_ encountered one of several space stations the Undine had constructed in our galaxy to mimic various places in the Alpha Quadrant in order to train Undine agents for infiltration. They managed to reach a peaceful settlement with some of the Undine, but apparently others weren't convinced. There have been isolated incidents of infiltration since then, and there's even evidence that the problem isn't just in Federation space. The Klingons claimed that they attacked the Gorn because the Hegemony's government had been compromised by the Undine—and the worst part is there's some indication they were right."

Carlin shivered, pulling her ponytail over her shoulder and running a hand through it. "What is Starfleet doing about all this."

"I'm told Starfleet Security is dealing with it," Antori said, though from the scowl he wore when he said it, he wasn't very happy with that answer. "In the meantime we're to keep quiet about the Undine who replaced Emma Frost."

"Is that wise, sir—I mean, Antori?" she asked.

Drel shrugged. "Starfleet Command is afraid of setting off mass panic. It's probably a justified fear, given what happened thirty-three years ago when Changelings infiltrated Earth just before the start of the Dominion War. _That_ nearly sparked martial law and a military coup."

"I see," said Carlin. She made herself let go of her hair and flipped it back over her shoulder. "I still can't help feeling we ought to be doing something more."

"Neither can I," Antori said. "But there's nothing we can do, except keep our eyes open for any further signs of trouble." He shifted and met her eyes. "There is one more thing, though, that doesn't have to do with the Undine."

Carlin resisted the urge to grab her hair again. "What's that?" she asked.

"In the holodeck, when you were trying to prove you were the real Carlin Agran, you told me Jorel Quinn was your father."

She nodded.

"It took me a while, but I managed to verify your story. Jorel was Jorel Onx before he joined with the Quinn symbiont, and during his time as an initiate, he came under questioning regarding the pregnancy of a fellow initiate, Lendri Agran—your mother. A DNA test cleared him, but obviously there are ways to fake those, especially for a talented, ambitious young man with all the right connections, like Jorel."

"He _did_ fake it," Carlin insisted. "He is my father: he told me so himself."

Drel held up a hand. "I'm not questioning your story. I'm not questioning that Jorel would be capable of it, or that Quinn wouldn't get some smug satisfaction out of knowing just how hard his latest host had worked to climb the ladder to joining with him." His face darkened for a moment, there. "What I am asking is what you're doing about it?"

She blinked, startled. "What do you mean?"

"I think you know perfectly well," he said, without a trace of anger, just compassion. "I've seen the test scores. Your aptitude for science and astrophysics is some of the highest I've ever seen, and yet you chose to devote most of your energy in the Academy to Xenobiology: the same major Jorel Quinn took. You took all the same classes, all the same tests, and you beat every score he ever made, even though it took you more than one try sometimes. Afterwards, you took the same posting he did: a posting on a small starship as a junior medical officer, even though Doctor Howard tells me the work clearly bores you. He's asked me twice already to have you transferred to a science posting on the bridge: not because you're work in sickbay isn't good, but because he can see that your passions lie elsewhere."

"He can?" She was surprised it was that obvious.

Drel nodded. "On top of it all, you've applied for a symbiont. You specifically requested me as your field docent—and I think it would be just a little too convenient for you to pick the one person Quinn would least like to see as a field docent by sheer chance." He gave her a level look. "Every decision, every move you've made so far…all of it dictated by him, his preferences, and his actions. You've done it for what? To prove you're his daughter? To prove you're better than him at whatever sick game he's chosen to play?"

"To prove he was wrong when he left me," Carlin said. She closed her eyes to keep the tears in. "To get revenge for what he did to me."

"All you're doing is letting him control your life indirectly. Revenge won't make it any better," Antori said gently.

"It feels better," she said. "Better than feeling nothing at all, anyway."

"And was _nothing at all_ what you felt when you launched into your investigation into the deaths of the Ferengi crew, without which we would never have known about the Undine agent in our midst?" he asked. "Forgive me if I'm wrong, but taking big chances and long nights on an investigation no one has authorized doesn't strike me as something Jorel Quinn would have done. But it was something you did. What did you feel?"

"Afraid, nervous, worried, but excited at the same time, like I was doing something important, something that would matter." She opened her eyes. "Like I was alive."

He let a smile play across his lips. "Maybe you should try that more often," he said.

"Is that your professional opinion, as my field docent?" she asked.

He leaned back. "You want my professional opinion? Give up on the revenge," he said. "There's an old Earth poet who once said, _Living well is the best revenge_."

Carlin dried her eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means if you want to prove Jorel was wrong about you, the best way to do it is to live as though he hadn't passed judgment on you by abandoning you and your mother," said Drel. "The best way to get revenge on him is to treat what he did as beneath your notice, and move on with your life. Anyone can get back at someone for wrongdoing, but it takes someone truly rare to be able to just brush themselves off and walk away."

She took a deep breath and then met his gaze. "Do you really think that's possible for me?"

"It can be, if you want it," he said. Then he leaned forward. "The best thing for you to do would be to let go of living to prove your father wrong. Start living because you want to, because it's exciting, because you have something important to do in the universe, something that matters. Drop out of the symbiont program, and accept a transfer to the science station on the bridge. Then you can start living your own life, out from under Jorel Quinn's shadow."

Carlin looked down. "I think you're right about one thing," she said, sliding a PADD across the table. "I don't think I'm cut out for joining. I drafted this letter to the Symbiosis Commission, withdrawing from the program."

Drel shook his head and slid the PADD back to her. "I've never seen a candidate I would consider better suited," he said. "And honestly, if I weren't planning to stick around in this host for a while yet, I might request you as my next host."

Carlin looked up. "Seriously?"

"Seriously," he said. "As it is, I've already submitted a glowing recommendation to the Symbiosis Commission. My only concern is that you applied for a symbiont not because it was what _you_ wanted, but because it was the path Jorel laid out for you when he abandoned you during his own application process. Being joined with a symbiont is a big, lifelong decision, and I don't think anyone should make it unless _they_ really want to."

"So, I withdraw for now," she said. "Then once I've got my feet under me and figured out what it is _I_ want, I can reapply." She let herself smile and toyed with the PADD. "I guess I'm going to have to rewrite this letter to the Symbiosis Commission, since I'm not an abysmal failure after all, like I said."

"Of course you're not," said Antori. "But there was one thing I was wondering if we could do first, just the two of us. I hear they have the holodeck back up and running now, and I borrowed a couple programs from Lieutenant Brooks. It's either a double moonrise on the hills overlooking Utopia Planitia on Mars, or Aldar Bay on Trill on a starlit night. Your choice."

Carlin's smile broadened. "Why, Commander! If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were asking me out on a date!"

Antori stood, smiling. "Why not? There are no rules in Starfleet against fraternization between ranks. Sokar may find the whole concept illogical, but that doesn't mean he objects to other people doing it. Do you?"

She laughed, standing with him and taking his hand. "A handsome officer who only a few days ago braved the most dangerous alien infiltrator in Starfleet history with me, and my pick of two gorgeous getaways? What would I possibly object too?" He laughed, too, and they headed for the door. "So, tell me about the Mars program. That sounds interesting. I've never been there…"

They passed out into the corridor and the door closed behind them.


	11. Epilogue

Disclaimer: Star Trek and all associated characters and situations are the property of CBS studios. Star Trek Online is the creation of Cryptic and Perfect World. All are here used by myself for entertainment purposes only, without permission or intent to profit. Stardates were calculated with the help of the TNG Stardate Calculator available on TrekGuide .com and may be slightly out of sync with those used in the game's lore.

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**Epilogue**

Later that night, somewhere among the officers quarters aboard the _USS Nautilus,_ a desktop viewer's screen suddenly and inexplicably went black. Its owner was not surprised, not even when the voice of a man came out of nowhere. "Is this a secure channel?" he hissed. "Are you alone?"

The owner of the viewer sat back. "It is secure," she said matter-of-factly. "I would not have contacted you without taking adequate precautions first. You know this."

The viewer came to life, now displaying the face of a human man with cropped blond hair and a puckered scar running down his right cheek. He smiled. "You can never be too careful these days," he explained. "Especially in our line of work." A pause. "So, what do you have for me?"

"Unfortunately very little," she said. "What I did find out is no doubt covered in the official report sent to Starfleet Intelligence. The creature killed the crew of the Ferengi freighter and impersonated its captain using advanced shapeshifting capabilities. It then proceeded to kill Lieutenant Emma Frost and replace her in much the same way. When Ensign Carlin Agran began to detect its subterfuge, it attempted to do the same to her, but was thwarted by Commander Antori Drel and the timely intervention of a security team led by Captain Sokar. There is no way to determine why the creature targeted the Ferengi vessel, nor how it came to be trapped in the nebula. Retrieving any further information has become impossible. Ensign Agran won't speak of the matter to anyone who has no apparent need to know, now that it's been classified. She is, as you would say, a _good girl_."

The man huffed. "Strangle herself in red tape just because it's what the rules say, even if it means the job doesn't get done, or takes far too long. I know the type." He paused, tracing his scar absently with the tip of one finger. "We've seen the Undine at work before," he said. "According to the Voyager Files, they use an isomorphic injection to maintain their form, and they can only be reverted by a cytokinetic injection, restoring their original DNA template. This Undine seemed to be able to change at will. I want to know why."

"My best theory is some sort of automated injection system, well concealed on or in its body. Since Undine technology is biological in nature, it would presumably not be difficult to operate or implant in such a creature," she said.

"Any trace of it among the remains?"

"Impossible to say. The Captain and the security team were…regrettably zealous in their efforts to kill the creature. By the time I saw it, not much remained, and certainly no devices could be observed among the wreckage. I managed to preserve a few muscular samples, but that is all."

"You can feel free to incinerate them," said the man. "Remember, we have T'Vix, and a couple of her friends, and that's all the live samples we need."

The owner of the viewer nodded.

"Rest assured that the Undine will try something like this again. Maybe it won't be on _Nautilus_, but then again, maybe it will be. I want you to keep your eyes open and be prepared."

"You can always rely on me, Franklin Drake, as can Section 31."

"Good," said the man. "Drake out."

The viewer went dark again, before returning to a work display once more. Its owner sat back for a moment, then resumed her work as if nothing had happened. As far as the rest of the ship knew, nothing had.

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Author's Note: I felt the need to add this section, to help build things up for a character I'll be introducing. There may be similar epilogues in the future, but they will be added _before_ I close the story. The timing on this one was just because it didn't occur to me that it was a necessary addition until now.

Franklin Drake is the players contact in STO to the rouge intelligence branch of Starfleet: Section 31. The information about Species 8472 (the Undine)'s shapeshifting is based on the Voyager episode "In the Flesh."

Up next: _**"Airborne"**_  
_As a young Ensign aboard the _USS Endurance_, Sam's mischievous ways threaten to end her career. But when an Orion agent exposes her and her shipmates to a dangerous virus that removes inhibitions, it's up to Sam to contain the disease and bring them home alive. Set in 2405, introducing Sam Hayashi._


End file.
